The Valentine Frenzy

Chapter 30

 Sleeping with those school girls was fun, but when grannies come threatening me with sex, I had to retrace my steps. I wasn't raised in a home that lacked money to an extent that I had to pander to the carnal needs of some sugar mamas to survive. Much as my parents weren't the richest in our area, we lived comfortably in our own way. 

I might have cheated on my girlfriend for which I owe her an apology. Even girls my younger sister's age had crossed my lane, and I tangoed with them. But these grey haired mamas, with bums like Mountain Kilimanjaro, aiming to rock my wooden bed. No way!

How was I supposed to handle them? Lift your leg a bit; move up; adjust a little; show me the road; expand; contract; scroll down. Hai!

As I walked quietly back to the hut, my thoughts centred on the vice-principal's offer or do I say her threat? She had the appraisal report my boss would use to evaluate me, and I couldn't imagine her scoring me low.

Who leaked it to her that the students visited me at home? Mrs Avo, of course – the elephant. She only could be that nosy. If she snooped around for morality reasons, I could have understood her self-sacrifice. But trying to blackmail me for selfish motives was callous and insensitive, to say the least.

But why would the woman not consider herself too old to date young men like me? I thought we'd been over these issues. Would she spoil my career because of bedroom passion?

That she had to co-opt the vice-principal even made matters worse. Were they not ashamed to have spoken about sex to me? Where lay their self-worth as mothers?

While I played around with girls at the university, I never for once took such African mamas home. I always thought it would be tough to keep them happy.

If I were to host those mamas and they realised I wasn't capable of rocking their boats as efficiently as imagined, their frustration would make them score me poorly on my appraisal report. Perhaps they would ask me to try and work harder for the good remarks I wanted to see in my report.

If, however, they found me to be a powerhouse, they may keep me indoors for hours doing their bidding. Since I had no idea when last a man touched them, it won't be long before they ask me to follow them home for the weekend. Those selfish women won't even mind if I missed reporting back at the office in Johannesburg Monday morning.

Their request would have been easier if I hadn't been hosting my students at home since Monday. Right now, my energy reserve had been depleted, and my waist had worn out.

Come to think of it, the old women might not even be as difficult as I'd imagined. Maybe they needed someone to rub their backs and jiggle them here and there a bit. I might give it a try. I only had to close my door to those students coming later in the day to preserve energy for the Valentine's Day mountain-climbing task.

The need to return to Jo'burg with a favourable appraisal urged me to give it a try. Of what use would my everyday stress be if I returned home with a poor appraisal or even none. The early morning exercise, shouting in the class and all that efforts would all go to waste? My sojourn in Port-Elizabeth would be passed off as a failure.

If cavorting with African mamas would fix that, then so be it. The task shouldn't be hard to do. I would just have to picture myself rubbing my mom's back. Case closed. And the vice-principal had better give me a hundred percent score.

On getting to the hut, a note was affixed to my door.

"Please, enjoy your school girls today again. But tomorrow–Valentine's Day– it will be our turn. Expect us both. We will be visiting from 10 p.m., and we will be there all night." Funeka and Deliwe